The Beginner
by Kritty3311
Summary: What exactly was she to him, pupil, apprentice, puppet? She wasn't sure but it was important to please him. If the producers of the show had asked me this is one of the story lines I would have done. Manipulation of existing characters. Rated for future sex and violence and a little language. Enjoy
1. Chapter 1

I have to tell you, I'm seriously looking forward to Hannibal the TV show. But because of the TV show this fanfic may change based on what happens in the show. I'll announce any spoilers if they come up. I've watched most of the movies, read the books. My Hannibal is based on Mads Mikkelsen cause he just looks awesome.

Cecelia Bently looked around the office waiting for Dr. Lecter to finish. Since she had walked into his office he had not moved, but for a cursory grunt hello when she walked in he had said nothing just continued to sit behind his desk scribbling in a notepad. She was unsure what this was all about but continued to sit, quietly and ponder.

"How are you today Mrs. Dusick?"

Cecelia didn't appreciate the address and tried hard not to show it. She was a damned doctor and he knew that but that was only half of her aggravation. She had changed her name, well more to the point she never changed her name. She married Brad Dusick over 18 years ago and kept her maiden name mostly out of spite. Why Dr. Lecter had decided today to annoy her she was unsure.

"Dr. Lecter I-"

"Are you seeking other means of treatment?" He ignored her interruption. He stood up and walked from behind his desk, bringing the notepad and a file folder with him. "I caution you that any alternate form of treatment could be detrimental to the work we are doing together."

"Why do you believe I am seeking other forms of treatment?"

"Are you still having nightmares?"

She sat back into the sofa and tried to cover the smile by scratching her nose. Lecter took the seat opposite her and crossed his legs.

"Mrs. Dusick?"

"Why do you insist calling me that Dr. Lecter?"

"Do you realize we have only asked each other questions?"

"Why do you think that is?"

"Do you have a hypothesis?"

"Would you like to hear it?"

"Do you think I would have asked you if I didn't?"

"We have a petty game going on Dr. Lecter, don't we?"

"Rhetoric, that counts as a fail."

Cecelia sneered, Lecter pursed his lips slightly, one corner of his mouth turning up then very quickly put back down. He took a newspaper clipping from the folder he held and slipped it on the table between them.

Cecelia had to sit up and lean forward in the chair to view the picture.

"What is this?"

"Are we playing again?"

She looked in his face, "What is this?"

"That would be repetition and a fail."

"I don't understand why you are showing me this."

The newspaper clipping was one of a murder three towns away of a teenage girl. There was suspicion that it was a mugging gone wrong someone had noticed the similarities to another murder 2 weeks prior and the police had intensified the investigation.

Cecelia read through the article it wasn't much more than a few paragraphs the police did not have a lot of evidence to go on. Her brow creased.

"I read the paper Dr. Lecter but I've lost my taste for the crime section."

"I thought you would be most interested in this piece Mrs. Duscik."

She looked at him, stood up and walked to the window.

"Why would you think the murder of a teenage girl would interest me?"

"For several reasons. Cecelia, why don't you sit down?" He motioned to the chair which she took sitting back down.

"Both of your daughters were in their teens when your family was attacked."

She didn't bother nodding he knew this information.

"What was your reaction to this?"

"It's a tragedy."

"That is your only opinion?"

"I don't understand where this is going Dr. Lecter."

"I feel it necessary to caution you."

"Caution?"

"This is sloppy work and predictable. I would think you better than this, banality was something I never saw in you."

Cecelia narrowed her eyes.

"I'm afraid you have me at a loss. I'm not sure I understand just what you are talking about."

They sat looking at each other. Lecter blinking slowly at his patient.

"If you mean to imply" she started, "that you believe I committed a murder I'm afraid I'm confused."

Lecter said nothing only continued to blink.

"One would think being a doctor you would have certain responsibilities, not only to a patient but also to the public. Wouldn't you, being the professional that you are, inform the police that you believe a patient is a danger to not only themselves but also to the public? Wouldn't the greater good rule in this case?"

"I can help you be better than this if you would take direction, you must follow it strictly, there are no half ways on this."

Cecelia began to sweat, the foul dampness causing her blouse to adhere to her skin. Something else stirred, her muscles tightened, she crossed her legs squeezing them together.

"This excites you, this proposition?"

Cecelia looked down, now too ashamed to look at Dr. Lecter directly. He ripped the top sheet off the notepad.

"These are a few of the instructions along with my home address. If you are interested 10 o'clock tonight, if not I'm afraid our session are done."

The wetness was now no longer contained to her underarms, sweat was spreading on her back chest and her scalp felt hot as well. A different kind of wetness was spreading between her legs, she flexed tighter. He held out the paper which she took and read over.

"Lose 25 kilos? How do you propose I do that?"

"Any violation of the rules is an automatic fail."

"How much is that in pounds, 50? 55?"

"You must build up your stamina as well. I'll have a more comprehensive list tonight, these are things I came up with very quickly."

She was dumbstruck, there had to be at least 50 items on this list.

"What do you expect of me Dr. Lecter? Surely not to cure, displace perhaps?"

"Call this whatever you like."

"And you will no longer treat me if I refuse?"

"I find it highly unlikely that you will refuse. I believe you believe in this course of treatment."

"I don't see how I will have time for most of this." She said looking at the list and shaking her head.

"You will make time for this and other conditions. Your sexual exploits stop this instant."

She shot a look at him flushing. This was something she hadn't mentioned to him.

"No matter how many showers you take Cecelia, you stink of other men."

She wondered if that was why he did not look at her and see victim.

"Tell me how many men have you slept with since the murder of your family."

She stayed quiet, struggling to calm her breath. She had been careful, always back to her home for the night, showering before bed and showering in the morning. There were no traces of her husband's cologne in the house, no male deodorant.

"Please stop thinking of the truth. Stop." Lecter scolded.

"What?"

"You look guilty, you sound guilty, find more shame in that than in the murder of two women?"

"I see nothing but your assumption regarding that."

"I have nothing more than my assumption regarding your sexual escapades. Answer my question."

She turned her head away from him.

"How many men have you fucked, Cecelia?"

It was how her name rolled from his tongue. He whispered it, he screamed it, he made love to it with him mouth. That was why she was here, that was why she continued to return. She wanted to hear his voice say her name. She had slept with her last shrink, but she loved Dr. Lecter. She would do whatever he asked, then he would fall in love with her as well, this she knew.

"15"

"Quite a few."

"It's been a slow week"

"When you are prepared to tell me the truth Cecelia, when you are prepared to follow my instructions to the letter, then you will be comfortable again." He stood up and walked back behind his desk. "Good day Cecelia, 10 o'clock tonight, I am holding a dinner party tonight so please no earlier."

She left his office, she needed to water the seed he placed inside of her each time she saw him. But he told you no, her mind countered, failure to comply is an automatic fail. Did he mean just men? She thought passing by a group of jogging coeds. She could scratch the itch herself. He didn't say specifically no to that. She wasn't sure so, she did nothing. She went home to read the list and wait for 10 o'clock.

#

"Dr. Lecter surely this has been the most delectable meal I have ever eaten." Mrs. Yuak raised her glass to Lecter and was followed by several others.

Hannibal wiped the corner of his mouth, dislodged a small piece bit of potato from between his cheek and gum and raised his own glass.

"I do thank you madam." He said giving a small nod of his head.

"Dr. Lecter." The red head to his right purred. "You must tell me what that juicy piece of meat was. Carl here thinks it was veal, I say lamb."

Lecter paused, sucking in a large breath before replying. She had some insipidly ludicrous name, Puppy or some such nonsense. Lecter had silently cursed the Dean for bringing her. She had shamelessly been coming on to him all night. Casually touching his arm staying longer each time she placed her hand there. He thought of uses for her, none of them ended prettily.

"It is getting late and I'm afraid I've kept you all long enough." Lecter said standing, addressing the table. "I'm am very glad to have had you, and hope to have you again." He directed the last part to the redhead, touch his glass to hers. The insipid smile she slipped him gave him everything he needed.

He walked his guests to the door. Making pleasant conversation as they said their good byes. Lecter made mental notes on those who lingered too long, keeping care not to show his frustration. As his last guest backed down the drive way, Lecter looked to the woods abutting his home, smiling internally he went back inside.

#

Cecelia, against orders from Lecter arrived at 6. Conscious of the fail for showing up at his home too soon she waited in the trees, hopefully hidden from where anyone could see her. From where she was she could see the guests arrive, there is Mr. and Mrs. Yuak, Dr. Ted Hopper and his longtime companion, James Cris, the Dean, Carl Cautti. Cecelia knew them all, with the exception of a redhead on the Dean's arm. They had all been to the funeral of her family, they had all whispered words of condolences at the wake, then forgot about her just as quickly.

Cecelia, instead of being invited in and dinning with the group was hiding out in the woods, skulking. She pondered what was the tipping point on this? The events of the last 18 months did not conjure polite dinner conversation. Once you tell someone how you cannot rid of the taste of cum in your mouth you are left off of dinner invites.

Cecelia sat down on a log to wait for 10. Soon her eyes closed and she dropped into an unsettled sleep.

_"This isn't over Jennifer!" She screamed. The teen ran up the stairs, running away from her mother. _

_ "You're a useless human being." She screamed as she stomped up each stair._

_ "Keep stomping up those stairs I'll nail those feet to the floor." A threat she used quiet often when her daughter was 6, not as effective now the girl was 16._

_ The doorbell rang. Cecelia too distracted by Jennifer to notice it was after 9 opened the door._

_ The gun was the first thing she saw, it turned out to be the least of her problems that night._

She woke from the dream her heart racing. It was a tame nightmare as they typically went. She knew they would get increasingly worse. Certain thinks calmed it, Dr. Lecter had promised to assist it at least she thought that was where it was headed. He could be luring her into a trap, have the police waiting for her however she thought that scenario was unlikely. Of course almost as unlikely as a psychiatrist aiding and abetting his patient in criminal misdeeds.

Cecelia looked at her watch, 9:58. She stood up brushed the dirt off of her clothes and walked to his door.

#

"Cecelia, I am glad you came." He walked her into the entry way. "Just a moment I will be right back."

She looked around the entry way, waiting for Lecter to come back. It wasn't always like this, she held a doctorate in forensic psychology, was one of the leading forensic psychologists consulted for court cases, flown across the country, her opinion was regarded highly. Held a faculty position and was well liked. Now, she was ostracized from social functions, gave up her teaching position, skulked in woods and stood in entryways of homes, no longer good enough to be invited in past the front hall. If she thought about it too long the pain caused her to do frightening things.

She did not hear Lecter walk back to her and wondered what he wore on his feet.

"Here we are," he said holding out an envelope to her.

She opened the envelope pulling out 5 neatly typed single spaced pages, on the top printed in bold "INSTRUCTIONS".

"Look them over, again if you are unable to follow the instructions it is a fail and I'm afraid I cannot help you any longer.

"I'm sure I do not have to tell you to commit the instructions to memory as soon as possible and discard the papers and envelope. I do not have a fear you will tell anyone but it would be most remiss of me if I do not mention it. After following the instructions I will see you again in a month." He nodded putting a period to his instructions.

"Dr. Lecter, why are you doing this?"

"Call it a mutual beneficial examination."

"Mutual?"

He nodded, reached past her and opened the door for her. She turned but paused.

"You may have to trust me for a short time." He explained

"Then after you have my trust?"

"I will have your faith." He leaned cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was warm, passionate, inviting and frightening.

"Good night my dear Cecelia."

She dumbly nodded and left. As she walked to the rented efficiency flat, the kiss tingled on her lips, she touched them, pressing his essence into her, burning the kiss on her lips. There was one word, no, one name flipped through her mind.

Judas


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't understand, I don't understand I just don't understand."

Cecelia sat in Dr. Lecter's office, her mother in the chair beside her. Cecelia remained silent, Dr. Lecter had offered a few words, Marisol Bently, Cecelia's mother, was never silent.

"Truly Dr. Lecter, you couldn't possibly think my Cecelia should be _loose_ do you. I've tried, OH how I have tried to help this child. I put in so much, so much time and effort. I couldn't work when she was young you understand, I couldn't leave her alone for any length of time, this poor child would have never survived if I hadn't put in all the time, effort and training I did when she was young." Mrs. Bently paused only a moment to take a handkerchief and dab at her eyes. "You see her education wasn't complete, wasn't finished before she was out spreading her legs and getting knocked up by the first _man_ who came along. Makes me sick to think about it, sick in my heart and in my head. Too much of her education was missed to her fornication addiction. It turns my stomach." Mrs. Bently again dabbed at dry eyes.

Lecter looked at Cecelia, sympathy wasn't something he typically bestowed on others and she would find none from him today. Today he was curious at her reaction to her mother's presence in the session. She had assured him she was following his instructions, what he had seen so far confirmed it, her demeanor had changed, she had lost the weight he had instructed her to drop and quite a bit more to his surprise and appreciation. She dressed differently, had cut her hair in a fashion that suited her better. He approved of the changes she had made.

"Dr. Lecter, Dr. Lecter,"

"My dear madam I do apologize." Dr. Lecter said recovering from his silent appraisal of Cecelia.

"Do you not think it would be better if Cecelia was resting somewhere or at the very least she should stop this notion that she live on her own and come back and live with me."

"Mrs. Bently I do not believe either course of action is necessary."

"Someone who has murdered should be locked up."

Cecelia faltered, Lecter noted and filed it away.

"No one believes that Mrs. Bently, other than you of course."

"What do you call it Dr. Lecter?"

"Preservation of life." Cecelia answered for him.

"You shoot your own daughter? Whose life are you preserving?" Her mother asked, her head was tilted back and although they matched in height the elder woman looked down on her daughter.

Dr. Lecter looked to Cecelia, gauging, judging her reaction. This time there was none, no noticeable flinch. He approved again.

"Mrs. Bently, perhaps you should see firsthand Cecelia's alternate form of treatment we are using."

Cecelia's head snapped to attention, she narrowed her eyes at Lecter, he could see and hear her silent 'No'

"Yes, yes Mrs. Bently, tonight at Cecelia's home we will both be treated to a demonstration." Dr. Lecter stood Mrs. Bently stood pulling herself up to her full height improved by the heels she wore. She jutted out her chest, reminding Lecter of an aggressive animal, fighting for dominance.

"Are you coming Cecelia?" Mrs. Bently asked in a tone reserved for simple children and animals.

"Cecelia I would like to speak with you privately in a little more detail about our plan for tonight."

Cecelia nodded and settled back down into the chair.

"I'm very interested in seeing this demonstration tonight Dr. Lecter, I'll just wait until you are finished with Cecelia, you can tell her to come straight to the car."

"I'm afraid the work we have this afternoon will take a little time."

"Surely you don't expect for me to wait too long."

"No need to wait at all Mrs. Bently."

"I drove Cecelia here, you don't expect me to come back?" Mrs. Bently's tone implied she had no desire to do any such thing even if asked.

"My dear dear lady, I expect nothing from you. Cecelia can find her way home, I'm sure of it."

Marisol Bently pursed her lips, suddenly unsure for one of the first times in her life if she should voice her opinion. The man who stood in front of her, although pleasant and well breed made her nervous. Marisol was never use to holding her tongue, but there was something in Dr. Lecter's eyes, something in the way he stood that was almost daring her to contradict him, challenge him, and it made her waver.

"You know Dr. Lecter," she said changing her posture, she shrank from the gorilla stance she had taken before, shriveling into a more submissive posture. "You and I are looking for the same thing." Her voice shrill before, now soft, seductive. "My little girl needs to get better," she reached out a hand almost placing it on his sleeve but pulling it back before she did. "I worry," a hint of southern drawl now crept into her voice, a tone which puzzled Lecter since he knew she was born and breed in Connecticut. "Dr. Lecter, my baby is fragile has been, always will be."

"Mrs. Bently, I can assure you, your daughter's nature has changed, her fragility is something you will no longer need to be concerned about. You will see how strong your daughter can be and is. I have complete faith you will see firsthand your contribution to your daughters," he paused, "Education." Lecter's slight nod of his head dismissed the woman. She left his office, drove home and agonized. Calling the police dropped in and out of her head, there was something not right about that man. But the police asked too many question and tried to put their noses in places they shouldn't if one delved too deep into her family, Marisol shuttered, it was a history she didn't feel the need to dust off.

"I do apologize for my mother Dr. Lecter." Cecelia said as he sat down across from her.

"There is no need to make apologies for behaviors you have no control over Cecelia."

"I do question your motives for bringing her here."

"They are not sinister I assure you."

"I doubt the validity of that statement Dr. Lecter."

"Do you think I would lie to you Cecelia?"

Cecelia kept quiet, not answering the question.

Lecter sensed her hesitation and pressed on, "Cecelia, I would like you to take me to that night."

"Dr. Lecter I do not like to go back there."

"I understand Cecelia but we will, I will go with you and help you. It was around Christmas time is that correct?"

She nodded, reluctant to again pull this bandage from the wound.

"You had finished decorating? All the festive ornamentations were up?"

"All but the tree. Everyone always wanted a real tree, I'm allergic. We always had to wait until the week of Christmas to get it."

"Presents purchased?"

"Yes."

"Were you a typical early shopper Cecelia?"

"The girls were easy that year, my husband's gift was,"

"Was what Cecelia?"

"Already wrapped," she whispered.

"What had you given him?"

Her eyes darted around the room, looking for an answer she was hesitant to give, "A boy." She mumbled.

Most of the information Lecter had on Cecelia had been pieced together from physician's notes and police reports. Cecelia herself was reluctant to fill in the pieces of his missing information. He avoided the media since they had a tendency to get most of the information incorrect. The pregnancy was information he didn't have.

"Why was this a Christmas present?"

"I had been pregnant before," he noticed she didn't use the term 'we', this was something she was keeping, she owned this. "Three had ended in a miscarriage, the last required a D&C this time I was keeping it hidden, if problems happened it would only be mine. He wouldn't have to worry."

He could have asked, no, he should have asked why this was important to her, but he was busy today and needed to clear his schedule for this evening. He would get back to it later.

"Tell me what happened when you were taken into the room."

She shook her head.

"It is not a request you can refuse."

"I was raped." She said flatly, she was retreating into herself.

"Cecelia, tell me everything."

She closed her eyes. She wasn't taken into the room she was dragged there. She told them she would do whatever they wanted, whatever they needed, she would do it, hurting her girls was unnecessary. The tall one, (later she found out his name had been Lucan) understood, one of the others, (Marcus his brother) wanted to know why they would take a fat bitch like her over popping a young cherry. He had taken her oldest daughter's face and pressed it into his crotch as he said this.

Lucan understood and never hesitated. He told the others to stay there, grabbed her by her hair and dragged her into the guest bedroom. Cecelia looked back at her family, hog tied and gagged on the living room floor and wondered exactly why she offered herself up for sacrifice. Because it's what you should have done, this was a normal reaction. Cecelia's mind had to remind her of these things. What was normal, she hadn't been normal for a long time.

Once in the room she was ordered to undress, which she did hesitantly at first, a hard slap to her face sped her up. He snorted in disgust when she was naked, she thought that would be the end, prayed it would be the end. A thought slipped into her mind maybe she was too disgusting and he would go back to the girls, maybe he would spare her, but she was ordered to undress him instead. She was told she was going to ever regret volunteering for this job. It was something she knew already.

He pushed her down on the bed, the musty odor of the duvet cover almost making her sneeze. She needed to change the sheets in this room, it seemed overdue for an airing out. She thought briefly what and odd thought to have considering the circumstances. What was odder was the thrilling anticipation that was running through her as this man stood before her cock hard and sure.

He was on top of her in an instant. The pain was unbearable. He was unforgiving and relentless. Bending pulling and pushing her in ways she hadn't experienced before or since. He wasn't quick he prolonged the torture.

Without giving it much thought, she didn't give anything much thought at the time, she was trying to be outside her body and mind but a numbness in her foot brought her back. She didn't know how but she managed to get the tieback from the curtain wrapped around her foot. It could be used for something she just wasn't sure what it was at the moment. She couldn't keep her mind focused it was everywhere at once. It kept going back to when she was a teen. She had suffered from severe eczema, in high school she was taunted relentlessly. She had forgotten that shame until now. Now it was all she could remember, well, no that wasn't entirely true, she remembered something else. Her father, he had taught her distractions, at least he attempted to, hoping to keep her hands and fingers occupied so she wouldn't destroy her skin scratching. She had a series of small toys, 'Fidgets' that were supposed to help. They helped a little but the thing that helped the most was string.

Her father had given her a piece and a book on knot tying. In the beginning she was horrible at it, only managing to make a series of tangles, but she continued to practice. She kept a length of twine with her throughout her high school career. It was something she could keep hidden from her mother and it was a secret she shared with her father. Knowing they had a secret together would have killed her mother, making her even more prone to do it. She actually became quite good tying knots, boating, fishing, decorative, climbing knots, she could do them all.

As she lie there waiting for her night of torture to end mindlessly she took the tie back from around her foot in her right hand. Most of her knots she could tie blind. That was easy, one handed a little more difficult. Unless he turned her over (which may have been likely) she wouldn't have been able to tie one of her fabulous knots.

She still tried though, she had committed to memory a number of knots, any number of slip knots would be beneficial. The slippery eight floated into her mind, she twisted the rope, in her hand, trying not to be noticed. She wasn't sure that doing it one handed and blind would be successful. It may not hold if she missed one of the loops, or worse yet she wouldn't be able to get it anywhere near his neck to do anything useful. She was starting to doubt her plan made any sense. What would stop him from just slipping the loop from around his neck and beating her to death once he was done. She was losing her confidence and her nerve, until he finally flipped her over on her stomach. Staring at the wall she slipped the lose end of the tie over one of the slats of the head board wrapping the end around one wrist. The next part was tricky, she held the loop wide in both hands waiting, pulling, tugging the rope fretting the loop was too small and it wouldn't fit over his head, building up the nerve. She finally did, finding some courage she arched her back finding his head easily, slipped the noose around his neck and pulled.

Cecelia fell silent. She found a spot the floor and focused on it. Lecter waited.

"I'm unsure of your reluctance to give the full account of what happened that night. Do you find your actions that terrible?"

"I find them obscene."

"But they are yours, you should own them. Do not hide from what you are embrace what you've become."

She looked at Lecter tilting her head. "What exactly should I embrace, paraphilia, parricide, necrophilia? Please you tell me which one."

"You should appreciate each gift you are given, learn to take that gift and find a good use for it." Lecter stood and stepped up to stand behind Cecelia. He stroked her hair entangling her dark strands between his fingers. Cecelia closed her eyes to the sensation. His hand moved down her neck, pushing the collar of her neck down and running his finger over the angry red scar there. She jumped up out of the chair getting out of his way.

"I must admit Cecelia, I'm very interested in finding out more about you, more about what moved a beautiful, educated woman to such actions. I'm also curious to see what else you can do."

She gritted her teeth to fight the smile. She would show him exactly what she could do.


	3. Chapter 3

"That is a highly unusual scarf you have Cecelia, all braided and the like, where in the world did you get it from?"

Cecelia walked away from her mother. She continued to talk, of course, the woman didn't stop, couldn't stop never stopped talking, never allowed a moment of peace to her daughter's ears. Cecelia however was used to it. Accepted it, needed it, and was unable to remove it from her head even when her mother wasn't around.

Marisol had looked around, judging Cecelia's home. She had moved into a house that desperately needed work, that needed more work than Cecelia would have been able to do in two life times, but she didn't purchase the home as a fixer upper, not for the space it provide however it did the needed space, she had purchased the home initially for the view. The house sat on 7.5 acres of land, privacy. The nearest neighbors if you could call them that, were at least 10 miles away, the front of the home was eclipsed by a dense ironwood tree grove. Navigating the path through them was difficult during the day, next to impossible at night.

Despite the fact that the house was in disrepair the hefty price tag came from the "river view". The lake boasted some of the deepest waters in US. Most of the land around Cecelia's property was federally protected land which meant privacy. Privacy would be an important part of the night.

Cecelia knew Lecter was at the door before he knocked, she opened it to him as he placed his knuckles on the heavy oak. Lecter ever the professional made no startlement of surprise.

"I hope I am not late."

"You could never be late Dr. Lecter," Cecelia said stepping aside and letting him pass. "Your presence is not only welcomed, why tonight, it's required." She smiled a wide toothy grin. One that did not quite met her eyes.

"Dr. Lecter," Marisol Bentley made a grand gesture as she approached Lecter the moment he stepped into the living room. She stuck out her hand to him, holding it up in anticipation of a gentlemen's' kiss.

"Mrs. Bentley," He said taking he hand and placing a kiss on the air just above the back of her hand. "It is delightful to see you." He dropped her hand quickly.

"Dr. Lecter" she said laughing, taking her free hand and blushing behind it. "Dr. Lecter you must try Cecelia's little hors d'oeuvre things." She waved a dismissive hand towards the plate on the coffee table. "She does try so."

Cecelia scooped up the plate and brought it to where Lecter and her mother stood.

"I'm afraid the prosciutto is a little salty." She said bowing her head slightly.

Dr. Lecter eyed the plate cautiously, Marisol shoved a melon into her mouth and Cecelia, with a bit more grace, did the same. Lecter smiled and picked the mozzarella.

"I'm sure one of these days you will get entertaining down Cecelia." Her mother smiled patronizingly.

Lecter didn't contradict or affirm Marisol's comments. Taking back seat tonight would be difficult but he was interested in seeing how well Cecelia performed.

"Your home is quite lovely Cecelia." He said sitting down in large cushioned chair Cecelia pointed to.

"Why thank you Dr. Lecter it still requires a little work. Would you like some wine doctor?"

"Yes please." He accepted the glass as offered. "Amarone." He said after inhaling the bouquet.

"You are correct Doctor." Cecelia said smiling. "How well you know your wines."

"Cecelia, there are no other chairs in this house?" Marisol asked, shifting uncomfortably in the chair that looked as if it matched Lecter's in every way.

"No mother, I'm afraid I'm limited on seating arraignments. Please tell me Dr. Lecter," she said quickly before Lecter could offer his seat, "How did you know the wine just by a cursory whiff."

"It has a rich full bodied almost raisin bouquet. Perfect on its own, but I'm sure it will go perfect with the meal."

"Yes, the roast you provided proved an interesting challenge."

"Let us hope it isn't ruined." Marisol said from behind them. Lecter and Cecelia turned slowly, deliberately towards the woman. She faltered for a moment unsure if she should continue, both looked so strange. "I mean you remember Cecelia, your first Thanksgiving what a horrible meal that was."

"I've learned quite a bit since then mother. But thank you for the reminder. 'Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

"George Santayana,"

"Very good doctor." Cecelia smiled and nodded.

"We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done."

"Longfellow."

He nodded to her, a slight smile moving his lips. Cecelia watched their smooth surface thin as his smile stretch across his face, a shiver ran over her spine. That smile unnerved her, a chill set deep in her bones.

"What will we be enjoying tonight Cecelia?" Lecter asked, turning a hungry eye to Marisol.

"Well, Dr. Lecter, I am glad you asked. Please this way." She slipped her arm around his as he stood and she walked him into the dining room.

Marisol had difficulty removing her amble bottom from the chair. When she finally managed it, Cecelia and Lecter were several paces ahead of her forcing her to run/skip to catch up. She did not like the conspiratorial way they excluded her. She pouted like a spoiled child. Her mind's wheels turned working on a way to remove Cecelia from Lecter's side, while figuring a way to get herself there instead. She honestly had no interest in the man, his strange eyes unnerved her, but whatever Cecelia had, Marisol needed to take away.

They arrived in the dining room. Cecelia had spent a good portion of her day working on this particular room. A long table was placed in the middle, extravagantly set, silk table cloth, with perfect crystal glassware and bone china. She had to go through her storage locker to get the furnishings in this room. Most of the items in the room had never been used, sitting in the china hutch for the majority of her married life, only looked at every few months or so to receive a perfunctory dusting before being forgotten about again. Lit candles sat on each surface in elaborate candelabras. A roaring fire warmed the room to an almost uncomfortable level. Lecter and Cecelia gave no hint of discomfort. Lecter never gave the impression of being too cold or too warm. Cecelia wore a sleeveless blouse and linen pants, the heat of the room did not disturb her. She did adjust the pashmina scarf around her neck, pulling it tighter, constricting her breath. The light from both the candles and the fire set the room ablaze with a warm orange yellow glow.

"Don't you think it's a bit warm in here?"

"I thought we would start with a light salad before getting to the meat and potatoes of the evening." Cecelia said ignoring her mother's comments.

"This room is quite warm, perhaps we could open a window to air out the room, I'm a little lightheaded I'm afraid," Marisol said fanning her face.

"Mother please take your seat at the head of the table, you are the guest of honor."

Marisol blushed and smiled. She was pleased her daughter recognized what she was, instrumental in getting her where she should be sacrificing at each and every turn.

"Thank you but I couldn't sit that close to the fire, it's too warm."

"Don't worry mother, you will not be warm for that long. I promise you that." She pushed her mother in the chair while Lecter took the chair beside her.

"The greens from tonight's salad are from the patio garden I set up. There are assorted baby greens and edible flowers, all carefully tended to. I must admit the murder of my plants did pain me so" Cecelia said sadly lowering her head. "However," she continued, "I explained their sacrifice, I assured their brethren their losses would not be in vain."

"Plant murder?" Marisol scoffed.

"It has been argued time and time again, many horticulturists believe plants not only have but can show feelings, they believe it is a very important and necessary area of study."

"Do _you_ believe it important Dr. Lecter?" She wanted to call him by his first name, showing a familiarity that her daughter did not have, but she couldn't at the moment remember it. She felt dizzy, light headed and her vision blurred. She honestly wished her daughter would open a window.

"Although I do enjoy the fruits of my labor, I'm afraid I am a carnivore of the most serious of sorts."

"You couldn't possibly believe such drivel could you Dr. Lecter, I couldn't believe an educated man, such as yourself, would fall for unbelievable balderdash."

"Be careful Dr. Lecter, my mother can kill with kindness."

"I'm curious Cecelia," Lecter said draining his glass and placing it down again. "What can you kill with?"

"You don't want to eat first?"

"I see no need to delay the evening any further."

"What are you two talking about?" Marisol sniffed. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"Well mother I had given this a bit of thought. Weighing my options so to speak, commonplace would have had me start with the poison, maybe even finish with it as well. I was very interested in seeing your reaction to my mandragora."

"What?" the woman asked wiping her brow, "It is awfully warm Cecelia."

"Never mind," she said dismissing her question. "Are you familiar with Ling Chi?"

"Leng T'che," Dr. Lecter corrected.

"Cecelia, please speak so I know what you are talking about." Marisol picked up the water glass splashing most of the water out of the glass before she managed to get it to her lips then from there she drooled more down her chin. "I don't understand I don't feel so well." She attempted to put the glass back on the table missed and the glass crashed to the floor.

"Dammit mother that was the Waterford Crystal!"

"Please control your temper my dear Cecelia." Lecter cautioned.

She smiled composed herself. "Of course Dr. Lecter you are right, you are always right."

Cecelia walked over to where her mother sat and stood next to her. She produced a small but fat bladed knife, the cutting edge smooth.

"This knife was specially made for me Mother. See the mirrored surface? I was assured it was one of the sharpest blades that he could produce, he was particularly proud of the mirrored surface."

Marisol waivered and fell against her daughter, stretched out her hand and tried to right herself against the table.

"Leng T'che, or as the West knows it, a death by a thousand cuts, was banished in the early 1900's. Can you imagine mother, a death where you are slowly cut to death? I am very interested in the outcome."

Marisol whined reached out her uninjured hand to Cecelia and whimpered. Cecelia moved to a position behind her mother's chair, took the braided scarf from around her neck. A good number of things needed preparation for the evening. After she had left Lecter's office she had been very busy, the scarf was an afterthought. Somehow it managed to get into the storage unit with the kitchen and dining room furnishings. She grabbed it used it to accent her outfit. It proved a distraction while she waited for her guests. She found fingers ripping the fabric, not an easy task. She then carefully braided the pieces back together, looped it around her neck and spent the better part of the evening tightening it around her neck. Loosening, tightening and loosening and tightening.

"I wanted something fitting, something prolific, which is one of the reasons I immediately thought of the 1000 slices. I didn't want you to be disappointed, I know you had high hopes of my, education." She wanted to turn her eyes to Lecter, too see approval on her chosen method but fought the urge. He would show her in other ways.

The first cut she delivered, set Marisol into high pitched screams. Cecelia had expected this and assumed she would move straight to the woman's tongue removing it before the noise became unbearable, however Cecelia found she enjoyed the sound.

#

Cecelia stared blankly at the dying fire. Her hands ached. Red angry lines crossed the palms, welts that had started to weep blood stood out on her skin. She forced herself to open to stretch out her hands, the pain was excruciating but she bore the pain. All she could feel was the pain.

"It is difficult to remove the popular misconception in the popular thinking that one can swallow one's own tongue." Lecter bent over the body on the floor and opened a bag he had brought with him. He pulled a few instruments reviewing his options. "It is possible, when you are choking or having a seizure that the muscle could get in the way. Blocking the airway and chocking a victim." Lecter opened the woman's mouth and held retractors in his hand. "Surgical removal of the tongue, a glossectomy as it is commonly referred to, can be a routine procedure, barring no complications." Lecter spoke on and for one of the first times since she met him, Cecelia ignored him.

The dinner she had honestly put together as an afterthought lay congealing on the table and the floor. She had relented and opened a window, currently a cool breeze blew in making the room cold and running goose flesh across her arms. The sting in her hands was subsiding, it had changed to a dull throbbing ache. She picked up the end of the scarf still around her neck and ran it over her broken skin. She closed her eyes against the sting as it cut into her already raw red hands. She pulled the fabric tight feeling the constriction as it pulled against her neck.

She didn't notice Lecter beside her until he spoke.

"How do you feel Cecelia?"

She looked at him, her expression empty.

"Excited? Calm? Happy? Remorseful?"

She slowly blinked at him, dropped her hands from the rope.

"I don't feel anything."

"Nothing?"

"I'm struggling, fighting with myself. I want to feel something. I need to feel something." She picked up the ends of the scarf again, pulled and tightened around her throat. "You will need to relax a few of your rules."

"Which ones do you feel need to be relaxed?"

"Unless you were willing?" she looked up at him watching him as he towered over her.

"Why my dear Cecelia, you've cut your hand." Lecter sat next to her in a graceful sweeping gesture. He picked up her hand turned it in his and pointed to the broken digit. A deep wound ran parallel down the finger seeping blood. Lecter took the finger in her mouth in a move that looked as if he was swallowing her finger. He held her hand in his running his tongue obscenely over the cut. An ache stirred low in her stomach, he mouth, tongue and teeth on her skin felt as if he was devouring her. She held his gaze, softening to his strange eyes.

Lecter's hand went to the scarf, positioned it again tight around her neck and pulled.

"I'm afraid you are not to my tastes," he said pulling her finger from him mouth.

She picked up a knife close to her hand, ran it down the front of her blouse splitting it open. She sliced at the bra underneath, Lecter broke contact with her eyes to watch the pieces fall. She placed the knife on her nipple pressing breaking the skin easily.

"I think you should meet a friend of mine Cecelia. I think he would enjoy you." Lecter bent to her and drank.


	4. Chapter 4

**This is short and sweet but I need to get this story moving so...**

Panic, she tried to bite it back, press it down but the feeling that Dr. Lecter was not going to stop her this time was building the panic to an uncomfortable level.

She knelt naked on her bed, hands tied behind her back, rope tied noose like around her neck, lose end tied tightly to the bed frame.

"Lean forward."

Simple instructions, simple to follow, lean forward, simple. Only complicated by the desire the human body has to survive. The rope was around her neck, constricting her windpipe, she's losing breath, the roar of the ocean as if two large seashells are pressed against her ears, so she could hear nothing else fills her head. Now panic, if she can only hear of the roar of the water she cannot hear Lecter's his order to stop.

A veil of black slips over her eyes and she loses consciousness, falling slack against the rope as it cuts into her neck. When she comes to she is laying down on the bed, still naked, still bound. Her hands tied over her head, rope still around her neck, tight but she is able to breathe.

"Dr. Lecter please." She begs pressing her legs together.

"I told you Cecelia you are not to my tastes, at least sexually I'm afraid. Other pieces of you I find delectable." His eyes went quickly to her hand then back to her face. She twisted so she could see her own hands above her head. The wounded hands missing the pinky fingers.

_I saw what he had had but I had to take it all._

He slipped off the bed, put on his jacket, smoothed his clothes and started to walk out of the room.

"Cecelia, I would like to see something a little more grand next time if you please."

"The restriction, will you lift it?"

"If you wish. Will you meet my friend?"

"Of course, are you going to leave me tied?"

"I'm sure you can get out, you are very resourceful."

"Why do your complements have a way of ending with "bitch"?"

Hannibal turned looking back, smiling down on the figure on the bed. The temptation was a difficult one to resist, but he did.

"Who is your friend?"

"Will Graham, I'm very interested in discovering how he finds you."


	5. Chapter 5

**NOW**

"Will,"

He was just coming back from the edge of a dream. Will, Garrett Jacob Hobbs, and Abigail Hobbs sat in a semicircle, on a blanket spread on the ground. Classic scene red checkerboard print, wicker picnic basket, triangle sandwiches with blood red pieces of meat dripping from the corners. The color of the sky was off, gray overcast with too much green.

"Will,"

Abigail hands a sandwich to her father, bloody fingers visible from the side.

"Will,"

Will now takes the proffered sandwich, bone sticking from the top.

"Will!"

The image shifts he's standing over a piecemeal woman, her head, torso, arms, hands, legs and feet were all pieced together from various different women. Their latest case, Will was having a hard time disassociating himself from the Patchwork Killer.

"WILL!"

Will Graham was jolted quickly awake, the images from his nightmare not dissipate as easily.

"Alana, Dr. Bloom!" he tried to sit up but there was a blood pressure cuff on his arm constricting his movement. "Why are you here?"

"Will," This voice was Jack Crawford's.

This voice did sit him up, ripping the pump out of the paramedics arm. Will was even more confused. No one had known they were here, Cecelia had insisted on it.

"What the hell!" His eyes darted back and forth between Alana and Jack. His mind was trying to think of a reasonable explanation as to why they would be in the hotel room, while trying to think of a good excuse about the cuts and bruises.

The flash from the camera jerked his head to the right. Why were they talking pictures? His head cleared, his eyes focused, there in the middle of the room, suspended and impaled on a dozen or so different objects was the woman he had been seeing in secret for the past 6 months. Cecelia Bently was flayed open. Will knew without looking, her heart, lungs, kidneys, and liver would be missing. Was she the latest victim of the Chesapeake Ripper, was she all his?

Jack knelt down beside him and said, "Will, we need to talk."

That was when he started to scream.

#

**THEN**

Will sat uncomfortably on the wooden bench of the court room. The building's air conditioning system had broken, the industrial fan had been removed deemed too loud to hear and concentrate on the proceedings. Men had taken off their jackets, loosened their ties, rolled up sleeves. Women had taken off sweaters and loosened top buttons on blouses, pulled up already short skirts. Everyone had a sheen of sweat over their skin. Jack Crawford sitting next to Will had large wet sweat stains creeping from his underarms. A few people fanned themselves with papers, file folders and in a few cases their hands when nothing else seemed to be around. Everyone was suffering from the in the heat of the courtroom, everyone with the exception of the woman sitting in the galley behind the defendant's table.

Will had tried to ignore the defendant's side of the court room. He was, after all, only there to hear the "confession" of the woman who was taking the blame for the crimes her son had committed.

Gerald Walker had killed two women, one who had been 8 months pregnant so he was technically responsible for 3 deaths. Will knew this to be true and had tried to convince the prosecution. But the DA was too eager to have this case off of his desk and after everyone had been assured the real killer would never wake from his coma, they needed a better fall guy.

It was also true that other than an unreliable eye witness they had no real evidence pointing to Gerald Walker, more evidence could be argued toward the mother. She had invited the women over to her home under the lure of work. They had been found in dismembered in her home.

Her husband had, years before, had died under mysterious circumstances. It had long been figured Mrs. Walker was responsible for that crime but a rookie mistake made by the police, and exacerbated by the prosecution, allowed her to go free. They were, in a sense, trying her for that case now.

Will again looked towards the mysterious woman, whose eyes shifted to him quickly then looked away. Her hair was dirty blond but Will suspected it wasn't a color that was natural on her. It looked natural enough but Will felt she would have looked much better with darker hair, maybe a color similar to his own. No, more likely black. He would have like to see her with black hair. Soft black hair.

"Why is Cecelia Bently here?" Jack asked in a hushed whisper.

"Who?"

"Dr. Cecelia Bently, she was the one who blew the case for us last time."

Will had heard it was a mistake made by the police, or more to the point made by the FBI.

"How did she do that?" Will asked trying to whisper as well.

The ADA Cohen turned to them scowling. Will figured he wasn't that adept at whispering and shut his mouth.

"Later," Jack mouthed.

"I understand Dr. Scott has some words to say on the defendant's behalf before we move on to sentencing." Judge Hu addressed the courtroom.

"Yes your honor, if it pleases the court." The defendant's attorney confirmed.

"What would please the court would be to get the hell outta here cause it's so damned hot, but since we have a schedule to keep let's move it along Ms. Blint."

There was general laughter at this, not much energy could be devoted to the endeavor. The bailiff left his post, opened the door and beckoned an unseen Dr. Scott. Most of the gallery turned, eager to see and hear from the man who was going to explain away the brutalization of two women. Will watched as Scott maneuvered his wheelchair through the double doors. The motor on the chair hummed as the courtroom waited for him to position himself in front of the witness box and take the oath.

Will watch the chair pass him and he again caught site of the intriguing woman, Cecelia. She had finally turned full so her could see her face fully, not just the profile. A smile spread across her face and Will was pretty sure she was mouthing the words, "It's rocking Dr. Scott."

Will smiled himself. The man did look remarkably like Dr. Everett V. Scott from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Balding, mustache, large glasses and despite the heat he had a blanket covering his frail legs.

Once the witness was sworn in Ms. Blint stood and walked to the witness stand.

"Dr. Scott,"

"Janet," he answered.

Will couldn't help add, "Brad,"

To which Cecelia answered, "Rocky"

They both said "Ugh," and erupted in laughter that had them removed from the courtroom.

"Are you a fan of 'The Picture Show'?" she asked Will when they finally managed to get their laughing fit under control.

"I've seen it once or twice." Will confirmed.

Cecelia pursed her lips at him. "You've been Brad," She said placing her hands on her hips.

"I plead the fifth."

She nodded and started to walk away but paused and turned back.

"You know, they play it each Friday at midnight, at a movie house in town."

"I'm not sure I can make it," Will said looking down. He was sure this started out as playful flirting, knew it started as harmless flirting and now that it had come to the inevitable conclusion that playful flirting can lead too he wasn't sure what to do now.

"It's out there." She said matter-of-factly. She turned and Will watched her as she walked away.

**NOW**

"What do you remember Will?"

He was sitting up in a hotel bed, the wing had be cordoned off. No patients in the rooms on either side of Will's. The folds of his fingers were bandaged and the cuts tended too. His throat was raw from vomiting, He was mostly empty now, what did come up was bile but he still wretched, his stomach refusing to stay calm.

"Will,"

"I heard you Jack. I just can't answer."

"Why don't we start with why Cecelia was in your hotel room? Did you know her? How long have you known her? Were you sleeping with her?" Jack fired the questions off not pausing waiting or expecting an answer. He paced around the room, arm flailing. Alana kept quiet but had similar questions. Beverly stood outside of the room along with two police officers placed to guard against Will from escaping.

"I'm I under arrest?" He asked.

"Not at the moment." Jack said with an inflection that hinted at, yet.

"What do you remember Will," Alana asked quietly. She stood as far away from his bed as she could without being outside of the room. Will wanted to ask if this was why she was afraid of him, although he suspected he knew the answer to the question and didn't want to be right.

"Was that day in court the first time you met Cecelia Bently?"

"Yes. Where is she?"

"Zeller has her."

"I didn't do that Jack."

He made no reply.

Will looked down at his hands. The wounds were familiar. They were similar to the wounds one would get in a stabbing frenzy, when the hand slips down from the handle of the knife and is cut by the blade. He didn't think he killed her, he was pretty sure he hadn't.

The night was a foggy haze, each time he reached for it he couldn't find it. He had to fight the urge to close his eye and fall asleep. It threated to overtake him constantly. Will could all but see the flames coming out of Jack's ears, he didn't think he would appreciate it if he fell asleep.

"Will," Alana tried again. "We are trying to help."

Will nodded by doubted if she believed the words as they fell from her lips.

There were voices outside of the room. From what Will could discern someone was trying to get in his room and the police outside were attempting to stop them. Jack stepped out of the room and Alana followed quickly after him. Her running out of the room caused Will to retch again.

"Will," Dr. Lecter stood in the doorway.

"Dr. Lecter."

Lecter walked over to Will's bedside.

"How do you feel Will?"

"I don't know Dr. Lecter, I-" Will didn't finish, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

"Will, have you taken anything?" Lecter picked up Will's wrist pinching the inside, taking his pulse.

"Amytal," Jimmy announced as he walked into the room brandishing a piece of paper. He was followed closely by the doctor, who ripped the paper out of his hand as soon as Jimmy stopped waiving it.

"Yes well," the doctor started, glaring at Jimmy. "We believe Mr. Graham you ingested the barbiturate, we believe it was added or mixed with something you ate or more likely drank." He looked around the room half expecting approval or some other type of reaction but was met with none.

"What did you eat last night? Where did you eat last night?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes, well thank you Dr.-"Jack reached for the name.

"Fitzpatrick," both the doctor and Lecter answered simultaneously.

"I'm surprised you remembered Dr. Lecter."

"Of course I would Dr. Fitzpatrick. There aren't many thinks I forget."

"Will, why don't you start at the beginning?" Lecter requested.

Will looked up, his eyes flashed on Jimmy, Dr. Fitzpatrick, then to Beverly and Alana standing at the door.

Jack took the hint and ushered everyone out of the room. Once just himself, Will, and Lecter remained, he closed the door.

"Explain," he barked.

Lecter sat back and settled in to listen to a story he knew most of already, having orchestrated the majority of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**THEN**

Will did go to the movie theater. Lurking in the shadows, hoping to catch sight of her but sure he wouldn't. Doubt had started to creep in his mind. He was now sure she hadn't actually invited him on a date per se, more like she just mentioned the Rocky Horror Picture Show would be playing in town. Similar to telling him the dinner down the street had blueberry pancakes. Nothing had been offered he had jumped to the conclusion that she was prompting something more. He was going to leave.

The crowd was heavier than he expected. Will nervously slipped back into a door way, hoping he wouldn't be noticed, planning to slip away after the patrons entered the theater. He closed his eyes which was a mistake. Patchwork.

_The team is in White Mountain National Forest. In a small clearing, Price is bent over the form on the ground. _

_"Park rangers found it at 8:15 this morning. The body hasn't been touched." Jack explained. He spoke to no one in particular he didn't need to, everyone listed. _

_"Forest ranger." Beverly Katz corrected._

_"What?"_

_"You said Park its Forest Ranger. White Mountain National Forest is patrolled by Forest Rangers."_

_"Is there a difference?" Will asked._

_"Not right now." Jack frowned down at Beverly, his voice putting an end to any further discussion. _

_"How many do you think Jimmy?" Will asked indicating to the body on the ground._

_"At least 10," he said shaking his head._

_"But I cannot be absolutely sure until I get her back to the lab."_

_Will frowned down at the body. Jack gave him a long leering look, assessing his agent unsure if Will could handle more of this. Then the phrase "at least ten" ran through his head. Will can take one more._

_"OK everybody clear out." _

_Most everyone moved quickly, everyone with the exception of Zeller. Brian Zeller was not impressed with the great Will Graham with is phony hokum. Why Jack ever thought he was brilliant was beyond him._

_Will hadn't noticed. He closed his eyes. A metronome of light osculates behind his closed lids. Right, left, right, left. Will opens his eyes, he's kneeling over the figure, he is arraigning her, arraigning her so she's perfect. She is his design. He worked for years, for years he worked on gathering the perfect forms, the perfect specimens. _

_"This took time," he tells Jack. "At one time he had a woman who he thought was perfect but there was something, something about her needed something else. He started with plastic surgery. Rhinoplasty, breast augmentation, liposuction possibly? But that doesn't work, he needs something completely different. _

_"And he sees it, in the form of another woman, she has exactly what he needs. Then he knows what he will do. He will make her. Perfect hands, legs, feet, fingers, they are not easy to find but he has patience and plenty of time._

_"He collects and harvests, completing his masterpiece."_

_Jack asks, "Then why is she here."_

"You came."

Will is brought back to the present by the voice. It's soft and smoky and makes love to his ear.

"Cecelia."

She smiled. "I'm glad you know mine."

He frowned, not understanding at first, but then realized what she meant.

"Sorry, Will Graham." He said sticking out his hand.

"Cecelia Bently." She said taking his. His hands were warm and soft.

She placed her left over his hand, running her thumb down the back of his hand, the sensation prickled his flesh. An intimate gesture he worried he was reading too much into it, the frown showed on his face. She pulled back quickly.

"Something tells me Jack Crawford has already told you too much about me."

"He didn't tell me anything." He tried to assure her. It wasn't entirely true. Jack chided him in the court house, once the hearing was over and even cautioned him against speaking with her again. He wasn't completely sure why the words of warning, but Will refused to be reprimanded like a child. It was a small reason why he came tonight.

"You're a bad liar Will. Either that or I'm a little better at spotting them than I thought. Shall we go in?" She asked turning and walking to the ticket booth without waiting for an answer.

A quick trip to the concession stand, popcorn and 2 sodas later they walk into the darkened theater. Passing patrons dress as their favorite characters, brandishing water guns, toilet paper, toast and confetti.

"Where do you want to sit? In the front with the virgins or in the back with the veterans?"

"Why not in the middle?" He suggested taking a seat down the aisle.

Will managed to make it through most of the movie even Time Warping when she grabbed his hand. Laughing and falling back on the high school kids behind him. There was a harrowing part when Eddie escaped from deep freeze, the stiches reminiscent of wounds on all the Patchwork victims. He saw the body screaming at him.

Silencing the voices in his head was becoming more difficult for him. It was the victim's voices that wouldn't stop talking wouldn't be silent, talking talking talking. Criticizing, berating, condemning.

Cecelia put a hand on his arm.

"Did you want to stay for the next show?"

Will looked around, the house lights were up, most everyone had left with the exception of one or two stragglers, a cleanup crew, and of course he and Cecelia.

"Sorry," he apologized following her out of the theater.

"No worries. I'm not in any rush to get back to the hotel." She said shrugging on her jacket. "I have a train to catch tomorrow. If I sleep now I can get about half hour of sleep." She looked at her watch as most people do when mentioning time.

"Where are you staying, I can walk you back."

"I don't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't be putting me out, I would like to, I want to walk you back."

Cecelia smiled and agreed to the offer.

"Where are you staying?" he asked as they stepped down the street.

"The Royal."

"That's where I'm at, I'm staying at the Royal." He said smiling.

"Small world." She said.

"Smaller town." He countered

He wanted to know more about her, more about why Jack hated her so much, and why she intrigued him so. As they walked he asked questions.

"Can you tell me what you did to Jack to piss him off so much?"

"Jack is a sore loser." She said flatly.

"He doesn't like to be wrong or proven wrong." Will agreed.

"He will do a lot to win. Sometimes it can be too much."

"What do you mean?" Will thought he knew what she meant however, getting another opinion on Jack Crawford was interesting. No one in the bureau spoke against him. No one dared.

"You and Jack didn't have a thing, did you?" he asked intrigued and a little horrified at the idea at the same time.

"Jack and I were both married when we met."

"That doesn't really answer the question."

"No, Jack and I didn't have a thing if that helps calm your anxiety."

Will remained silent.

"We didn't sleep together either."

This helped.

They arrived at the hotel, a small 4 story structure. Because of the late hour the lobby was empty everyone already asleep. The lobby held the usual furniture, empty sofas and chairs, there was light but from a lamp with a red shade giving the impression of a haunted hotel. They involuntarily huddled closer together.

To reach the rooms there was an old fashion elevator complete with wire gate that needed to be engaged to work, they ignored it believing it would make too much noise and instead chose to walk up the stairs.

"I'm on the second floor end of the hall."

"I'm on three. It's been lovely Will. Next bad 70's movie will be your choice."

"Why don't you come in for a drink?" There was no wet bar, Will had nothing more than tap water from the sink to offer which she would have the same in her room but he felt he needed to say something.

"You know I shouldn't, I have the train to catch."

This dance was inevitable, it made new lovers feel better if they didn't immediately fall into bed with each other without some sort of delay, some sort of game. They needed to reassure themselves it was what the other wanted. No mixed signals to confuse.

"What time is your train?"

"It leaves at 6:15."

"You're right, you won't get much sleep. Might as well stay up."

"I wouldn't want to impose."

"You wouldn't be." He whispered as he unlocked the door.

The corner of her mouth turned up in a half smirk and she followed him into his room.

**NOW**

"I told you to stay away from that woman."

"I heard your order Jack but I'm not your child you can't bully me around." Will said scowling at Jack.

"Did it ever occur to you that I was looking out for you Will?"

"What did I have to fear from her?" he asked out loud. She had more to fear from me he added to himself. That he didn't want to voice. It already looked bad for him and the day wasn't over yet.

Lecter sat back in the uncomfortable hospital chair and said nothing. The events that unfolded hadn't come close to what he planned. His elbow was propped on the arm of the chair and with his thumb and forefinger he tugged at his lips.

Jack's phone buzzed in his pocket, he took it out looked at it and frowned at the display.

"I need to take this." He said leaving not waiting for a reply.

Will looked out of the window refusing to look at Jack. The moment the door closed Lecter was up in a fluid movement that Will barely registered, not realizing Dr. Lecter stood next to him before he finally spoke.

"What happened in the room Will?"

Will looked at Lecter then down at his lap.

"I don't think you want Jack to know exactly what went on in that room that night or any subsequent night, do you?"

Will again looked towards Dr. Lecter then away.

"Tell me Will, I will help you make it eloquent for Jack."

It was a moment or so before Will spoke.

**THEN**

The room was small as most rooms in cheap hotels are. Off of the entry hallway was a small bathroom, sink, tub, commode. They passed a closet where Will had hung up his heavy coat and one of two sport jackets he had brought with him, he currently wore the other. His suitcase sat unzipped but closed on the floor. The hallway then opened up into a room , a queen bed off in one corner, a writing desk with hotel stationary and the phone in another corner. A wooden high back chair was pushed up against it. The curtains were open which gave a grand view of the parking lot next to the hotel.

Will closed the curtains, while Cecelia tossed her purse down on the desk and turned on its lamp.

"Could I have a glass of water?"

Will nodded and left to fill the glass in the bathroom turning off the overhead light as he did so. The absence of the overhead light and just the dim desk lamp gave the room a similar look to the lobby, scary and haunted. Cecelia looked at the desk chair but sat on the bed, pushing up against the headboard.

"Here you go." Will said. It surprised him, the position she took on the bed but he tried not to let it show. He offered her the glass, when she reached out he caught sight of her hands for the first time. The pinkie fingers were missing, along with the top of each ring finger down to the first knuckle. The wounds were recent, he could still see stiches in the ring fingers.

"What happened to your hands?" he asked more out of blind curiosity than common courtesy.

She smiled and shook her head, an odd reaction and gave no other explanation. If he had thought more if it he would have been frightened then, but other things came into his mind. Alana wouldn't be in a room alone with him let alone sit on his bed. There was a strange relationship forming between the two of them. He thought they were becoming more comfortable with each other then they wouldn't. Will didn't want to think about that, he instead focused on the woman with him now. He sat down next to her on the bed, Cecelia didn't jump or stiffen when he sat next to her, instead she relaxed into him. The heaviness of her body giving him comfort.

She placed the glass down on the night stand. Will watched, taking notice of her wounded digits. What on earth happened to her? Seeing the knots of the stiches again reminded him of Patchwork. The victims had multiple stiches, most notably in their mouths. Will surmised it was to stop their voices. The constant judgment they voiced.

She looked up at him and started to kiss him tentatively. Will tried to move the images of the Patchwork victims out of his head, their screams of judgment, reminding him they had had better lovers, more intent to their needs, more successful in satisfying what they wanted. He needed them to shut up. He wanted them to shut up. Focus on Cecelia. Nothing was working.

Cecelia had left the knife in her bag. The bag that was now too far away for her to easily reach without raising suspicion. Lecter would be disappointed. Dr. Lecter would have been beyond reproach. She was failing at her newly assigned task. She pressed on.

The love making was awkward, neither able to focus on the person in front of them. They couldn't even concentrate enough to be selfish. They continued the lovers dance out of ritual habit unwilling to stop, insisting on continuing an endeavor they had lost interest in before anything started. Buttons were undone, zippers pulled, clothes entangled up in arms and legs. A less than full erection pushed into an even lesser eager inlets. After 20 minutes of nothing Will collapsed beside her.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm usually," He put a hand out wanting to touch her shoulder but stopped.

"It's OK, not entirely you." She said. She looked over at the bag on the desk, scolding herself for putting it so far away. If she had the knife, the night would have gone much better. They lay still, debating the proper amount of time to spend in bed with someone you were sure you were going to have a romantic encounter with but instead turned out much worse.

Cecelia made the first move. She sat up swinging her legs over the bed. Looking around the dark room trying to pick out which clothes were hers.

"Please don't leave." Will begged, hating the whine in his voice.

"I told you," She said turning back to him, "I have a train to catch, I haven't even packed." She started to get up then turned back to him. Kissing him before leaving would be normal she thought. She leaned into him and placed a kiss on his forehead then moved to his lips. She drew back slightly but was still close enough to see the growth of beard he kept was starting to turn white in several places, close enough for Will to see a jagged scar around her neck. Will placed an open hand on her check and neck, his open fingers touching the scar and using his thumb to run over her lips and down to her chin.

_Jack is better. Holding an erection is not a problem for him. His is much better. A better lover, a better kisser, a better everything. He went all night, I begged him to stop. He wouldn't, couldn't. I didn't think I would ever come down from that high. Too bad I'm stuck here with you._

He wanted her to shut up, he needed her to shut up. His thumb moved further, lower down her neck.

_He can go all night. He can satisfy in an instant. He was between my legs, every part. Filling me, you should see it, it's amazing. I lost track of my orgasms. I screamed so loud they called the police. He is much bigger than you, much better than you. You should be like Jack. _

Closing her mouth, stopping her from talking, he needed to shut her up. Cutting off her air supply would stop the word over flow. His hand around her neck would stop her. Will pressed on her neck, pinching his hand closed.

Instead of being horrified, instead of pulling away from him, Cecelia leaned in deepening the strangulation. He kept his arm taunt and she pressed into him, helping him kill her. Their eyes locked in a deep gaze, eyes not breaking contact. Her head swirled, black dots appeared, she pulled back quickly. He opened his mouth to apologize but closed it. He didn't feel the need to apologize. Not only did it feel good to shut her up, his member sprang to life. He felt the tug low in his belly.

His hand dropped to his side and he closed his eyes sure she was leaving. Now when he wanted her she was going to go. He felt her move from the bed but instead of leaving she got back on the bed and straddled him, knees pressed on to either side of him. His eyes flew open, she had removed the rest of her top and undid the clasp on her bra, slipping it off her shoulders. Will ran his hand over her skin to her breast, finding odd shaped raised scars over her body.

Cecelia reached between her legs, found him and glided him inside. They both sucked in a sharp breath against the familiar desired feeling. Cecelia reached for his hand and placed it to her neck, they adjusted so his hand was around her, and she squeezed his fingers tight. He could feel her pulse strong against his hand. Pounding, unsure if from desire or fear but he didn't care he just wanted to stop it. He needed to stop it. She leaned forward again, letting him choke the life from her.

She rocked against him needing the sensations, struggling to fill her lungs with air and the joy between her legs. His hips bucked, lifting her up as he closed his hand against her throat _tighter_. Her hand grabbed his wrist as she rode up and down on top of him pulling it against her neck, _harder_. Gasping for breath, crying for air, she opened her mouth, gaging. Will screamed, coming hard. Cecelia's eyes rolled to white as her body shuddered, her orgasm ripping her apart. She passed out, collapsing on top of him.

"That shut you up."


End file.
